Moments in Santa Barbara

—Saturday evening, Ray Bradbury spoke.  Aged but dapper in a blue suit with a red tie, he spoke of how his work had all come out of his passions.  Best words of wisdom: "It’s a lark!"   Ah, yes, I remember.

There are few books I loved more than Dandelion Wine, and it’s hard not to be starstruck in the presence of such a Master. 

—Sunday morning, perhaps energized by the talk, I awoke very, very early and wandered down to the beach, which was quite deserted.  I took the time to do some yoga, mainly because something in my mind insisted it would be something good to do–stand in the sand and embrace asanas and breathe with the ocean.  The air was damp on my face, bare feet nestled in the sand, sailboats bobbing hard on the waves just beyond buoys.  In and out the waves breathed. 

Then I walked, mostly accompanied only by a seagull or two. The day before, I saw some very large birds, perhaps herons, landing on the water, bobbing and skimming without much hurry, but this morning, there were only solitary gulls, a single jogger, and two dogs playing by the tent of a woman who gave me the peace sign.   Her hair was tousled.  One of her dogs was a muscular young pit bull with a trailing rope around his neck and a not-reassuring thick chain around his neck.  He greeted me politely enough, a clever star wrestler, then dashed off to roll his buddy.

I walked for an hour, out and back, and noticed an intriguing trail of debris.  A flower, here and there–a pink Gerber daisy, a rose, a scattering of petals. They trailed for a mile or more, dropped as if a bouquet had been torn apart, a flower at a time.  I wondered who had dropped it, what story  lay behind it.  Was it the bouquet from a wedding I saw at the hotel the night before, scattered by the bridesmaid who caught it?  Why let it go? It seemed angry, but so methodical, the Goldilocks line of petals and flowers fed to a night-dark beach. 

–This afternoon, Robin La Fevers and I wandered over to the Mission, which is, after all my name mission, and I shot a lot of photos because I dreamed of it all year.    I leave you with some of the best photos I shot there today:                                                                                       

I seriously love this waterlily photo.  The reflection is such a delight.

This is a table at the foot of Jesus in the mausoleum.  Prayers in many languages, though mostly English and Spanish, adored every imaginable piece of paper.  Quite moving, honestly.

This is an astonishingly beautiful place.  Tomorrow, another walk, perhaps, or catching up on other work, or….oh I don’t know.  Something. 

How about you?